


Pound Me Too

by PlasticStraws (ofWildflowersandPoisonedEarth)



Category: American Horror Story: Cult
Genre: 4chan, Brace Yourselves; Kai is coming, C'mon Anon, F/M, Manwich with balls, Memes, Mr Butterfingers, Oh the places you'll go in your Grand Am, One of the wettest we’ve seen from the standpoint of water, Pinkie power dynamics, Political Satire, Poor taste to no taste at all other than Fluff, Satire, Satirical Smut, Seriously if you can get triggered don't read this at all, Smut, Tendies, The Unravelling Rants of the Blah Blah Waa Waa Spinsterhood, Topical Smut, Trigger happy - Freeform, Trophy to mount, Unfortunately pound time’s up now make my Manwich, dark and dank, dunce cap, ouroboros of troll, tour de force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16088252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofWildflowersandPoisonedEarth/pseuds/PlasticStraws
Summary: Satirical smut.  If you can't take the heat, stay out of Kai's basement.  Nothing is sacred.  Well, except the ceremony.  And Pinkie Promises.  Probably extremely triggering, if that's a thing that happens to you.Reader X Kai.  Kai will be Kai.  You will be a member of the cult's inner circle.  Final warning.





	Pound Me Too

**Author's Note:**

> This is your very, very last warning to duck out. It's trigger happy.

 

You stand at the door, fist clenched. You need an audit right now, to be pinkie to pinkie, because you're afraid. Only Kai can take it for you. You serve him, and he loves you and provides for you in return. You even know he wants to see you. So why is it so hard to just knock on his door?

Maybe it's the bald glare of the hall light on, 24 hours a day, when you're used to the safe dark haze of the basement, and the soft pulsing red and blue transmission from your good friends at Fox. Maybe it's the tomb that you all needfully ignore, vase on the door, bodies piling on the floor, voices whisper evermore, lye eats up the blood and gore....

You dressed today in a black silk mini, white collar emblazoned with Donnie Darko rabbits. Micro fishnet hose. You traded in your highly triggering curb stomping boots for platform oxblood penny loafers. They're easier to kick off. Because if this goes how you think it might go, you might need to. You're not stupid; fully aware that Winter covets this outfit. And that the most fucked up part is that you know it's going to turn Kai on sexually.

Kai can see your shadow under the door. You know this too. He's high as a kite on Adderall by this time of night, and he's sharp as his knife's edge. He's already seen you anyway, so why hesitate here, feeling like you need to run? Kai asked you the day you arrived what you were afraid of. You'd told him you were fear incarnate. He'd made you carnal. You aren't afraid of him. You love him more than anything or anybody.

He's set on edge. Storytime ran late tonight--Kai is worried he won't get the Supreme Court nominees we need, Dearborn just keeps getting bigger, and the city of Flint just opened another recycling center. People are getting too comfortable, and no one seems legitimately afraid. We need to strike now, before the midterms. The cult of feminist victimhood seems to be growing faster than ours... The Unravelling Rants of the Waa Waa Waa Spinsterhood. It's a dark day, and we need a big win.

Hence your hesitation to knock. Kai's fine tuned mind needs time. You wouldn't dream of interrupting, if it wasn't that you might have something to offer. On the other hand, if it's nothing? The dunce cap will be yours, and he won't let you litter because he knows how much you enjoy it anyway...

Kai calls you Mac Tonight, and when you go out on clown business, you wear a Moonman mask. Kai calls you Moon Girl too. He didn't let the others hear that at the beginning, and he never called you only Mac either. You were Mac Tonight. Like Speed Wagon. You were unilaterally named Tendie Czar. This is not a democracy, and you wouldn't want it to be. You defer to Socrates on this matter. And Kai of course.

"Mac. Just get in here already.", the command issues forth from behind the closed door.

"Divine Ruler.", you greet him politely, eyes cast down. He's beautiful. Everything. You're worthless, save your value in his sight. Well, that and the entire history of the earth. God made Eve because Adam needed her. Not the other way around. Still, men only need you if you are worth needing. If you aren't based? Well, you risk crudely knitting genitalia based touques, wineing and whining, and becoming a bitter, unwilling recruit to the Spinsterhood. So you work hard at being exactly what it is Kai needs. It's your biological prerogative.

"Kai.", he says warmly, rising from the bed, ushering you inside his room, arm around your shoulder. "Councilman is for the benefit of outsiders. Divine Ruler is for followers. But if I invite you inside this room, Kai is fine."

"Kai...", you choke out self consciously, with as much of a smile as you dare given the pressure mounting in your mind. "... thank you."

He doesn't sit down, doesn't invite you to. Kai stands toe to toe with you, so close that you feel the heat rise off his body, his slow breaths on your face, stirring strands of your hair. His dark eyes don't blink, but stare into yours like he's reading a story about you that you aren't allowed to know the ending to. It's unsettling, but this is important. It's for the cause. You can't get too scared to follow through now. Besides, he'd know. He'd know, and he'd make you tell the truth. And then if you'd chickened out or tried to lie, well, who knows. Kai was unpredictable. He had yet to fully audit you, and you were consumed with questions why, but now was neither the time nor the place.

"What do you want, Mac?", he asks. It's not harsh, only direct. The measure of his words is always stone specific.

"I want to help you, Kai."

The answer comes easy, and when a slow smile shows its hint in the lines around his eyes, you catch your breath. It was the whole truth, exactly what he demands.

"With what?", he sounds pleased, but weary. You understand why. He has so much weight on him, so much responsibility. You can only offer your inadequate, weird, sevice. He's unlikely to find it helpful. He's an understanding man, but you know he's been let down so many times. And you're just a girl.

"Kavanaugh. Whatever comes next. Anything I can.", you answer.

Kai looks pleased, pushing his fading blue hair out of his face before reaching out to hold your hand in his. Your tiny hand disappears inside his as you watch. Your heart thuds again, cheeks flood with heat as he lazily grabs onto your pinkie and strokes it, reminding you that you are his. You can't help it. You want him. You don't care he owns you. You don't care he's above you. It feels good in his shadow and under his thumb.

"You need to be more confident, my little Moon Girl.", Kai soothes, still holding your hand, leaning in closer to push aside your errant grown out bangs. "I know it's not easy for the prettiest girls--the truly beautiful ones. The whole world guns for you. Women hate you, mistrust you. You work twice as hard, gain their trust, put your own needs and feelings aside to allay their insecurities and suspicion, only to end up a whipping post, continually subjected to the brunt of their inferiority complex, as they needle you and try to chip away at your worth one passive aggressive diss at a time, all the while demanding your sympathy and endless patience. Don't you dare be strong, smart or successful. That will only make them hate you more. Forget funny. It's not a language they understand. You'll be seen as snide, sick, weird--and not as in singular--just weird. And men. Men? The ones who don't only want to fuck you also want to kill you. Every serial killer. Have you noticed that? None of them target ugly girls. They all want a trophy to mount. Even if you are destined to rot, they want a beautiful corpse to defile and leave strewn in crude pieces. A masterpiece to ruin. You are the effigy for all their humiliation and rage; the proxy for every unattainable woman who ever has, or would reject them. It's science."

"Beauty is in the--", you begin, but Kai never lets you finish. You had a point to make past the platitude, but he has a lesson to teach. You're his eager student. You stop speaking the instant his finger tip touches your lower lip.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Pretty is as pretty does. Don't dissect a rainbow. Beauty is only skin deep. Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.", Kai rolls his eyes, and prattles, tone edged with biting sarcasm as cold and unforgiving as a Great Lakes wind. "Bullshit, Mac. BULLSHIT. A bunch of dishonest, self deprecatory nonsense conceived by the ugly, birthed to indoctrinate the beautiful, to inoculate you against the knowledge of your superiority. What is that shit anyway, Confucius? Confuse us? Come-fuck-us? Shit, Mac. You know better. It's real misogynists who came up with that shit. A cheap trick to mind fuck the only advantage you have. Swallow your red pill, Mac."

His eyes are cold and wild, white and black. His hand still holds yours, but you come to the realization that his pinkie is now intertwined with yours, roughly holding you tight in his power. It's because he loves you. Maybe not the very most. But more than anyone else that he has ever fucked.

Kai tires of tirades with you. You don't give much of a reaction. Not the hysteric, tearful mental collapse most followers have. You were born in the biggest snake pit in the world. Way underground, in a writhing ball of horror, buried alive where the wind howled over your head, 80 degrees below the freezing point, so that if you uncoiled from the other innumerable slithering serpents, your cold blood would freeze and you'd sublimate to vapor instantly. That's right. Saskatchewan. But Kai respects your fortitude, your ability to absorb damage, your skill at diffusing all kinds of bombs.

So you aren't surprised particularly when he lightens up, and caresses your face, his voice sweet and low, "Take your red pill, Mac, and I'll give you an orange one."

Your heart races. Kai shares his Adderall with you for expressly one purpose.

You've still barely got to speak. It's okay. Kai always lets you go first when it matters.

"Now", he says, "Here's your pills. Red first."

He crosses your face gently with his hand. "Perfect symmetry. The above, the below, both eyes. Midline perfectly closed when you were just forming. Mitochondrial perfection." His hands both wrap around your throat, gentle, before they slide down your shoulders and across your collar bones. "Shoulders square. Your spine is straight, untwisted. Nothing torqued. Nothing askew."

Kai holds you in his unblinking gaze as his hands continue trailing down your body, feeling you through your cool, thin silk dress. He touches the sides of your breasts ever so slightly with the outside of his hands, before cupping them roughly.

"Small, firm, round, nipples dead center. And they react to me instantly." He sounds lusty, blinks growing slow, his deep eyes fixed and fascinated while his finger tips pass over you, leaving your nipples popping out through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Core like a drum.", his hands drop down you further. You stand still, frozen in place. He leans closer and closer as he goes, his breath warm on your neck makes you shiver, cold to the bone.

"Sharp bones, like a knife's blade.", Kai breathes in your ear. "Some men will say they don't like that. But I like seeing what's inside you.  Based stickgirl." His hands grab at you like the undead, reaching from the earth, grasp for a hold between your ribs, grip your razor edged hips.

You want more; want him to throw you down on his bed, spread your legs wide, and lay down on top of you. You want to say yes to Kai, always. But you don't want him to leave any room for a no.

But as the inside of your traitorous body betrays you; wringing, wet and impatient, you remember Kai is nowhere near done with you, nor you with him.

"And the inside of you.", Kai's hand slips up your skirt and between your legs. You gasp, feel your body slump against his for a second. "Tight walls. High cervix. Slippery, hot, soft, smooth. Mine."

"Until the bombs drop, and we die, Kai.", you whisper, pressing your mouth against his ear. He likes that end of the world talk. Always excites him.

"Do you know where I'm going with this, Moon Girl?", he asks, hand straying inside your panties. "You are beautiful. Facts don't care about feelings. So stop hiding from it, and apologizing for it. Stop letting other people use it; use it to guilt you and try to steal your inherent privilage. Stop letting them back you down because you're so sympathetic to their faulty patheticism. You use it, Mac. Make it a cudgel and beat them with it. Let it make you confident and bold. Stop being afraid of it. Stop apologizing for it.", he commands you, his hand firmly pressed down your panties, his middle finger slowly working its way inside you.

"Kai...", you moan, but he interrupts, slowly withdraws his hand. It tickles so bad it hurts. You want to lick your lips, rub his great big working dick through his pants, and start begging him to just keep going. But you don't. He needs to impart his wisdom, download the stream of consciousness directly into you. You need to let it become you, because you came to his room for one reason alone. To serve Kai. You're on a mission.

"So what have you learned? Do you want to brush me off, argue with me, rebuff my compliments? The next time you have an opportunity to use your inherent and unalienable advantages, are you going to bow and whither?", Kai asks you, once again toe to toe with you, and unblinking.

"No.", you answer, eyes joined with his. "You're right. I'm better than that. Why should I apologize to anyone for the gifts I possess, for the superiority of my body and mind, or for any of the ease they have afforded me? Why would anyone assume being more beautiful makes you less intelligent or competent? Genetic superiority is only more likely to produce a full spectrum effect. The beautiful have higher IQs. Better immune systems. We even smell better. We're more productive, fertile and make more money, not that I've ever really been into that.", you answer him back, unflinching. "We're even nicer. Better coders. Faster texters."

Kai smiles. Starts slow, but spreads like a wildfire set by a banger in the greater Los Angeles area. You love the way his Adam's apple bobs when he laughs. You look dead eyed calm on the outside, but you're still dizzied, heart racing.

"That's the spirit, Mac. Good girl points for you."

He's still shaking off a grin as he places both hands on your shoulders and pushes you to your knees on the floor in front of him. You kneel obediently, now that you've received his message and he's taken your fear and fault and made you perfect again. He reaches into his pants, and you part your lips, ready to receive his gift.

Kai slips the little orange tab onto your tongue. You catch his eyes from your place on the floor, and suck his finger as he slowly pulls it from your moist mouth. His eyes roll when he blinks, barely perceptible. But you know him. All you do is study him.

You'd lean forward, press your face against his upper thighs, bury it in his lap. Put your mouth all over him. Let him lay in it. Kiss. Suck. Face fuck. You'd like it, and so would he. You've seen his tell.

But that's not why you're here. And as the Adderall soaks up the wet eagerness of your mouth, it dissolves. Dissipates. Hits your blood stream. The plastic straw gets smaller. You're focused on what you have to do. You can see the end, or more the endless. Nothing ever gets accomplished without radicals.

Kai sees it the same way. Time isn't a value. It's a constraint. It was never meant to exist. Or rather, the world was never meant to exist within it. For your purposes, it's removed from the equation.

It's then that Kai's hand reaches for yours, and he pulls you up from the floor, and back into a broader and much less esoteric focus.

"So what have you got for me?", he asks you. "You said you thought you might have something useful."

"Yeah.", the words come so much easier now. "What we need is something easy, catchy. A simple idea that says it all. Something dank." You take a deep breath, smooth your dress, stand straight, toe to toe with Kai. "We've been playing catch up, trying to out-sensitive the fragile snowflakes, being fair and balanced. Trying to make the point as though we are on defense. I mean, not US. But the base we need to flip. The base we need to make based. #Me Too is just so easy. It's caught on and there's no damage control. We need a meme. This is our world. Yes we can."

"Okay. I'm listening. So sell it to me.", Kai's eyes narrow, arms crossed. He's trying to intimidate you. It's because he loves you. He just wants to make you strong.

One of your eyebrows flickers and raises. This is fun.

"They handed it to us on a silver platter.", you say amused. "What's the old fashioned word for a hashtag?"

A manic grin takes hold on Kai's beautiful face, and he throws his head back and laughs like Raccoon Mayhem eating an attic's wiring harness.

"Pound.", he answers you back, nodding.

"Pound Me Too.", you drop the words clear and distinct, let it ring out, hang in the air. Sounds like memetic victory.

"Pound Me Too.", Kai repeats, thinking, a toothy smile on his face, those adorable lines around his eyes. Impulsively, he grabs you up in a hug, roughly kissing your face. "It's genius. It's perfect."

"I know, right?", you can't help but almost squeal back in delight. You've held it in for days, considering it. You thought you were onto something, but you didn't know for sure until you saw Kai's reaction. Now you want him to know all your angles on it. He's pacing the room like a caged animal, face to the ceiling, already working on his own double suicide rant.

"We've WON!", Kai proclaims. "This's it. Game fucking OVER. No recounts, no run off! It's perfect! It completely neuters the entire movement."

"I know.", you say emphatically, following him around the room with your eyes. "It's funny. Vulgar. Dismissive. Implies they wanted it, asked for it, begged for it even. It sounds petty, like some kind of jealous-for-attention, circle-jerk pity party. Sounds like a lie, like lazy one-up-man-ship. It makes it their fault. It slut shames them like a clique of complacent fat chicks does to the pretty new girl at school who nabs the QB. No one is going to want to be associated with it. They won't want to use it, and they won't want to be affiliated with anyone who has. It kills it."

"I know. It's perfect. And we don't have to even change a word.", Kai gloats. It's so cute when he gloats. "They wrote it for us. All we have to do is..."

"... is appropriate it! They did it to themselves!", you burst out laughing.

"YES.", Kai agrees. "Exactly."

He quits pacing the room and slows down, taking you in his arms, kissing your face, your mouth. His hands stray up into your hair, and all over your body.

"Say it again, for me, Mac.", he growls in your ear.

This time, you don't answer him like some kind of millennial Ann Coulter on, well, Adderall. This time you can answer him as soft as you like. You make him wait, slither up against him, drag your lips up his stubbly throat, onto his mouth. He tastes like hot white milk and Fluff. Finally, you slide a tiny hand between your bodies, down his pants, and whisper in his ear, flinty and low, "Pound me too."

Kai groans, pushing his hard on against you, pulling your body onto his. He grabs you by the waist and pushes you backwards, until you fall back on his bed. He's probably been jerking off that big dick in this bed his entire life. Now you're the girl he wants to stick it in, the girl he wants to fuck while his power in the world rises.

He pushes your dress up, but doesn't take it off. He doesn't have time. You're both going to be up on /pol all night with this. But he needs you first. Your dress drifted up when he pushed you down under him, but he shoves it up above your hips. His hands paw at you mercilessly, ripping holes in your fishnet hose, as he pulls them and your panties down together. He doesn't pull them past your knees. You can't open your legs, but you're wet as November, and want to feel his weight on top of you as he pushes into you. He's coiled with you, his mouth on yours, his kisses wet and hot. You suck his hot velvety tongue, hold the back of his blue haired head. He rips his own jeans open, and his cock bounces out like a big hard club. You wanna take a beating for the cause.

"Ask me again, Mac.", he pants in your ear. "Ask me again."

"No.", you moan rebelliously, bite his neck between your front teeth. "Express consent is for pussies."

"Fuck, I love you, Mac.", he grits his teeth against your ear and holds his cock in his big hand, cramming it against the resistance of your inhumanly tight pussy. You clench as hard as you can, but he's making you so wet. He has to work for it, but he pushes hard and slides in. "You trying to keep me out?", he asks breathlessly.

"Trying.", you smile and confess, while he struggles to penetrate you.

He's in lock down inside your body, feverishly pounding his cock in and out as hard as he can. But with your knees bound with your panties and tights, it feel so good. Your pussy creams for him so hard that it tingles painfully, feels achy and angry. You stretch your long legs out straight, tilt your pelvis to meet his merciless thrusts, try to fuck and grind and bash your hidden little clit against his hard hairy mound every time his cock disappears inside you.

Neither of you talk much. You like to hold your breath during sex. And Kai talks so much; he needs this break, this release. You hold him, and just try not to have the wind knocked out of you. He's good like this; ruthless, unrelenting penetration. He never changes the rhythm, never lets up. You tense against him, eyes closed, his fists close around your wrists and pin you to the bed. Kai loves to be in charge, one way or another. Sometimes he makes you grind his lap, slap him when he tries to enter you. Tonight, it's your turn. He's going to make you come; no, force you to come, with his big, glistening, rock hard, toxic masculinity. You're close.

Kai angles himself inside you, the tip of his big cock rubbing and punching your mad little nympho button with every thrust. He's so smart. He knows exactly what he's doing. You feel it building, the high pitched scream inside your head building. The inside of your body hums and writhes in the agonizing suspense, while your pussy closes down on him like a python killing its prey. Kai's full weight crushes down on your small body, and his hot kisses suck away any oxygen left in your lungs. Your head spins and explodes in a flash of pain like a thunderclap.

"Ah, fuck, Kai... I'm gonna come.", you gasp weakly, choking on a breath of air.

"Me too.", he groans in your ear. "What if I knock you up?"

"Good.", you whisper defiantly. "I want my womb to open and birth your revolution, from creation to death. Blue lives matter."

"Deus vult.", Kai smiles and seethes softly, through gritted teeth, sunk gently into your neck, as his hand covers your mouth, and his hair falls over your face like psychedelic soft earth on a fresh body. "Based, Mac."

He holds your breath for you while everything inside you quivers and crushes down on him. When he makes you come, it wrings and twists your tight pussy so hard you can barely handle it, back arched, pupils pinned. Jolt after jolt, you tingle with cold. Even your feet cramp. The Adderall makes it better; more intense. Just like Kai himself. You're impaled to the hilt of his blade when he comes too, like an Uzi on full auto, round after round of his hot milk white cum fires inside you. He holds you down while he moans in your ear, thrust deep inside the hot safety of your body. Around the time you feel all his fight leave him, every fiber of striated muscle in him give up the ghost and collapse upon you, the white hot, agonizing waves slow and fade to warm quiet pleasure.

You wish he'd lay in you until he went soft, just withdrew, shrunk out. But he's not like that. You've never seen it or touched it when it wasn't hard as lead pipe. Maybe it never wasn't like that. This was Kai. He just rolls off you without a word, buttons his jeans and lays beside you, just catching his breath. You reach down and slip your panties and tights back up and smooth your dress down again.

You inhale sharply, and sit up. "You hungry, Kai? It's going to be a long night."

Kai doesn't move, just lays there with his arm behind his blue tressed head. "I could eat."

"Manwich?", you ask him, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet already on the floor. You realize you might as well have been wearing your jackboots. You never even kicked your shoes off.

"I like those sandwiches you make with the homemade meatballs.", he guiles from the bed, knowing you'll do it.

"Oh. So, a Manwich with Balls, registered trade mark?", you ask him, scampy, eyebrow raised, looking back at him.

But before you rise to leave, Kai's hand reaches for yours, and he holds your pinkie in his.

"Mac, you did good work tonight. I love you, you know that, right?", he asks, intense as always.

"I do. I love you, too, Kai."

He pulls you back down beside him, presses his lips to your forehead. You wish you could stay forever. But you're here for him. And this campaign won't advise itself. Memes don't write themselves. Cambridge Analytical won't hack itself. And /pol certainly can't lurk or shitpost itself. It's going to be a big night of important work, and you've got meatballs to make.

You stand, walk to the bedroom door, but when your hand grips the knob, you take one last look back at Divine Ruler. He's laughing to himself, and says, "Pound me too...", under his breath, shaking his head. "Mac. It really is so good. I wish I'd have thought of it myself."

"Well, they don't call me Tendie Czar for nothin'.", you bask, before gushing, "And it's cool. It's yours now. What kind of tasteless move would that be for me to take credit anyway?! I'm just glad I could be useful. The part that bums me out is that I don't know how I'll ever top it.", you confess, woefully adding, "And I wish we could just lay here all night. But I gotta go make your Manwich.  Unfortunately--", you sigh disappointedly, "Pound time's up..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
